Less Than a Treason

by Mary Birk

  He shrugged. “Whatever you like. The cleaners will have come so it should be clean enough for you ladies. Before the removers get there-”

  “Removers?”

  “Movers, you’d say. Before they get there, would you get my other gun and the ammunition from the drawer by the bed and take them over to the house yourself? I don’t want to take a chance of them disappearing in the move.”

  “Okay.”

  “Be careful. I keep it loaded, of course. Just look for . . .”

  She waved his explanation away. “I know how to handle a gun.”

  He frowned. “You do?”

  “I took shooting lessons after what happened last spring. I never want to feel as vulnerable again as I did then. I have my own gun.”

  “Really?”

  “It’s in my condo at home. I couldn’t bring it with me.” She remembered something John Stirling had said. “Of course, I didn’t know you had John’s people watching me.”

  Terrence made a cross over his heart with one finger. “They never said a word to me about anything you were doing. I swear I didn’t have them spying on you. I got all my bad information from other sources.”

  “I still owe Jack Shelton a big slap.” She swung her hand in a demonstration, but he caught it in midair and kissed it.

  “Better him than me. Should I apologize again?”

  “Probably.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Okay.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “If I take your car, what will you drive?”

  “I’ll take one of the other cars from here.”

  “You’ll be home by tomorrow night?”

  “Yes, lass, I’ll be home.” He smiled. “Home. Nice sound that word has to it.”

  “I’m going to have it all ready for us. We’re not wasting any more time.”

  “No, girl, we’re not.”

  She released him so he could take Michael to say goodbye to the Earl and Juliette. When he came back, he handed her a large manila envelope. “Put this in your purse. You’re going to need these things.”

  Anne unclasped the metal fastening and pulled out the contents. A checkbook to the joint account he’d set up and the credit cards he’d tried to give her back in April, along with a bank card, a health card in her name and one in Michael’s. She frowned at him. “It doesn’t seem right for me to use your money.”

  “Don’t be daft. We’re married. It’s your money too. You needn’t be so bloody independent. You’ll need money to get our house in order.”

  “They have my name as Anne Michaels Reid.”

  “If that bothers you, we’ll have the account names changed.”

  “It doesn’t bother me. I just don’t know if people will take the checks from me if the name is different.”

  “You’ll have no problems with people taking your checks, lassie.”

  She stuffed the checkbook and cards back in the envelope. “Okay, then, I’ll use them. I hate to admit it, but I’m almost broke right now. This trip and all the clothes I bought to wear here pretty much cleaned me out.” And the present for him, but she didn’t mention that.

  His dark eyes twinkled. “You bought them to wear for me?”

  She felt her face flush. “Not everything’s all about you. Besides, you never even noticed them, except the dress I wore to the christening, which I know you hated.”

  He shook his head. “You’re crazy. I loved that dress. I loved all of them. I could tell you everything you wore, every day. Your clothes, your jewelry, how you wore your hair.” He took her hand and pulled her up. “Come with me into the library for a minute?”

  “What for?”

  “Just wait. I’ll show you when we get there.”

  He closed the library door behind them and gently pushed her up against it. “I’m going to miss you, girl.” He leaned into her, and she felt his wanting for her. He kissed her so hard she felt her bones melt.

  When she caught her breath, she said, “I’ve decided to change my name.”

  “Whatever you want.”

  “Anne Michaels Reid, how does that sound?”

  “I love you whatever your name is.”

  She pulled his face to hers. “Enough talking. Don’t stop what you were doing.”

  He laughed.

  *****

  Reid was still standing outside watching the car with his wife and son drive away when the police car drove up.

  DI Francis was on scene, leading the investigation. He pulled Reid aside. “Superintendent, we’re about ready to make the arrest. As you know, the son’s fingerprints are all over the kit, all over the scratch awl, and all over the Falcon House. What you tell me he says could explain the awl and the Falcon House, and if it’s his kit, that explains that, but it’s all a bit too coincidental. But it’s what his brother says that puts him in the soup.”

  “I understand. But so quickly?”

  “Yes.”

  Reid had thought the arrest likely, just hadn’t known it would be this soon. “Does it have to be now? While he’s at Dunbaryn? I’d prefer it not be on the grounds here.”

  “Unfortunately, we don’t have a choice. We don’t want him to have a chance to lead us on a chase. If you can bring him to us, that would be acceptable. Or set things up for the arrest to be made somewhere inside apart from everyone else.”

  “I’ll ask him to meet you in the library. I’d like to give my father a heads up.”

  When Reid asked Lance to accompany him to the library to meet with the police, the young man’s eyes darted to his friend. Reid saw the unmistakable plea in Lance’s face, but if Duggan saw it, he ignored it. Rafe Kensington stepped forward. “I’ll go with you, son.”

  On the way to the library, Rafe asked, “What’s this about? Why do they want Lance?”

  “They’re going to arrest me.” Lance’s attempt at nonchalance was belied by the tremor in his voice.

  “Are they?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Reid opened the library door and stood back, waiting for the other two to pass through.

  Reid closed the door behind himself and DI Francis stepped forward. “Lance Kensington, you’re under arrest for the murders of Lady Flora Kensington and Jeremy Stone.”

  Lance neither appeared surprised nor protested he was innocent, but just nodded.

  Rafe seemed nonplussed. “Inspector, this is ridiculous. Lance wasn’t involved. You can’t have any proof against him.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Kensington, but your son’s fingerprints are on the syringe, on the vials, and it was his kit in Lady Flora’s room. His fingerprints were also on the weapon used to kill Mr. Stone. Your son not only had access to the murder weapons and a clear motive, but he has no alibi for either murder. We also took into consideration the burned documents and drugs found in his room.”

  Lance held up a hand to silence his father. “Am I the only one being arrested?”

  “Yes.” DI Francis frowned. He read out the caution, then narrowed his eyes. “Do you have anything to tell us about someone else’s involvement? Darryl Duggan perhaps?”

  Rafe spoke up. “My son chooses not to speak without a solicitor.”

  DI Francis asked, “Is that correct?”

  Lance nodded.

  “Very well.” He motioned to one of his men to take Lance into custody.

  “Dad, will you ask Darryl to take my car to Glasgow?” Lance tried to hand his father his keys, but DI Francis intercepted them, then stepped back as the constable handcuffed Lance’s hands behind him.

  “We have a warrant to search the car. We’ll take it with us to Inverness.”

  For the first time since Reid had told him the police needed to see him, Lance seemed upset. “Dad, Darryl was counting on me to get him back to Glasgow.”

  Rafe nodded, “I’ll see he gets back.” Directing himself to DI Francis, Rafe asked, “When’s the arraignment?”

  “It will be tomorrow morning.”

  “I’ll send a solicitor for you, Lan
ce. We’ll arrange for bond so you can get back to school. We’ll get this all sorted out, son. Don’t worry.”

  Lance didn’t speak as he was led out of the room.

  The Earl joined them as they watched the police car drive away. “Rafe, is there anything I can do to help?”

  Rafe shook his head. “I’ll just make some calls from here if you don’t mind. I need to get him a solicitor.”

  “Of course. Terrence, what will happen next?”

  “I would expect they’ll allow him to bond out.”

  “Even with such serious charges?”

  “I think so. Rafe, we’ll leave you to make your calls.

  In the reception hall, his father paused. “You think Lance did this awful thing? Killed his mother and Stone?”

  “I don’t know. If so, I doubt he did it on his own.”

  “Duggan?”

  “That would be my guess. If Lance is involved, Darryl Duggan probably is too. Or knows something about it. Lance told Rodney that Duggan was encouraging him to kill Flora, and after that, to kill Rafe, as well.”

  “Rafe should be warned.”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you prefer I told him?”

  “That would be good. He’s more likely to listen to you.”

  The Earl nodded. “You mentioned they found drugs in Lance’s room?”

  Reid nodded. “Cocaine and heroin. Under his mattress. Brilliant hiding spot.”

  “And in the other young man’s room?”

  “Nothing.”

  Chapter 57

  THE HOUSE FELT empty with Anne and Michael gone. Of course, almost everyone else had left as well, so the house actually was comparatively empty. It was just so big that if there weren’t people all over, it seemed a little like a museum. Growing up with his brother and sisters and all of their friends there, Dunbaryn had always been busy and full. A house like this needed a lot of people, and especially children, to fill it up.

  Reid had his luncheon on a tray in the library. Soup, warm bread and cheese—and a cold bottle of ale. He felt like, along with his wife, he’d finally gotten his appetite back. He was reviewing the report Oscar and Frank had prepared before drafting his own report to his superiors on the failed hedge funds and the evidence tying Von Zandt to its ownership. It looked as if Anne had been right.

  His mobile rang.

  “Harry?”

  “Guv, I got the information from Dumfries. Sorry it took so long, but the bloke who was there on Sunday was clueless. I had to wait until this morning to get to talk to someone who knows what he’s doing.”

  “And?”

  “Darryl Duggan was the only son of a single mother with six children all fathered by the same man. All of the kids were placed in care after the mother was killed by the boy’s father.” Harry paused. “This juvenile stuff was hard to get, but I know someone who knows someone there. It’s my town, after all.”

  “Well done. Anything else?”

  “A bit. The boy was there when the mother was killed. He was ten. Apparently, the mum had an order of protection against the man, was scared of him. The locks to the flat were changed so the man couldn’t get in. The boy let him into the house in the middle of the night and then watched while the father raped and killed his mother.”

  “God.”

  “He said, and I quote, ‘The slag deserved it. She took our father away.’”

  “Christ.”

  “Aye.”

  “Anything since?”

  “Negative. He went into care, got counseling, did well in school, and is now almost a barrister.”

  “What about the father?”

  “The boy stabbed him in the back right after the man killed his mother. He died. About that, the boy said, and again I quote, ‘He left us with the bitch.’”

  “Jesus wept.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “No DNA taken or kept, I suppose?”

  “No. there was no question he’d done it. Waste of money, they’d have thought.”

  “Thanks for the quick work. Do you have time to talk about the other investigation? I’ve been going through the report. You’ve looked at it?”

  “Aye. It’s a bit convoluted.”

  “Indeed. It looks like they’re using a half dozen offshore trusts based in places like Jersey to then invest in a hedge fund they control that’s based in the Bahamas, going through various banks, transfer agents, investment advisors, etc., to avoid looking like they have too much of a stake, or getting too much scrutiny. The fund allows redemption without any limitation on frequency or amounts and no real limit on how much one person can invest. So essentially, it has all of the features attractive to someone wanting to launder money. Add the plan that all the money is going to disappear, and you have an ingenious swindle with most of the investors afraid to complain for fear the original source of their investments will be scrutinized by the authorities.”

  “Right, and in this case, it looks like some of the investors, including Walter Von Zandt, actually own the hedge fund itself. Unfortunately, the fund is layered with corporate protections from liability, so any legitimate investors who are brave enough to sue, are out of luck.”

  “Von Zandt has to have made a mistake somewhere.”

  “Let’s hope.”

  “Right. Anything new on the Pooley murder?”

  “Not yet. The DNA results should be back Wednesday at the latest.”

  “All right. Keep me advised.”

  *****

  Rodney checked the road in front of him, then stole a glance in the direction of the passenger seat. Miranda hadn’t said a word for the last hour. Even though the car was warm enough, she kept her coat bundled up around her with the hood pulled up over her head. She wore dark glasses against the glare of the sun on the snow covering the landscape, but he suspected that the dark glasses were more to hide her eyes than to protect them from the sun.

  He didn’t think their mother’s death had completely hit home with her. The friction between his sister and his mother would probably make coming to terms with their mother’s death harder for Miranda. He’d had a better relationship with his mother than Miranda had, but he’d always, if pushed, sided with Miranda. During the divorce between their parents, they had clung to each other for comfort, and with their mother’s new husband making sure they were immediately shunted out of the way, they had formed a bond that was the most important one in his life. Hers too. A bond stronger than any marriage either one of them would forge.

  He put a hand on her leg. “Five minutes until we get to Glasgow. How are you doing?”

  “How do you think?”

  “It will get better.”

  “I want to see the house.”

  “What house?”

  “Terrence’s.”

  “His flat?”

  “No, didn’t you hear everyone talking about it? How he has the decorator working on it for her, and they’re going to move in and live happily ever after?”

  “I guess I didn’t pay attention. When did that happen?”

  “Apparently, he bought it for her last spring. I can’t believe he never mentioned it to me.”

  “Why do you want to go there?”

  “I just want to see it.”

  “What good is that going to do?”

  “I have to see it.” She turned to him. “Please, Rodney. I need to see it.”

  He sighed. “You have the address?”

  She nodded. “It was on the library desk.” She opened her purse, pulled out a piece of paper, then read the address to him. “It shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

  “No, I can find it. It’s not far from here.”

  Miranda bounced a little in her seat. “Hurry.”

  “We’ll get there soon enough. We need to make sure no one sees us. We don’t want to look like we’re stalking them.”

  “Just drive by. If anyone’s around, keep going. I just want to see it.”

  He nodded. “Okay. Then
let’s go home and forget about the whole thing.”

  “Easy for you to say. I just don’t understand the hold she has on him.”

  “The baby for one.”

  “It was there before the baby.”

  “There’s nothing you can do about it, Miranda. Can we talk about something else for once?”

  “Like what?”

  “Do you think Rafe will get Lance bonded out?”

  “Who cares?”

  “He is our brother.”

  “Half-brother.”

  “Okay, half-brother.”

  “I repeat, who cares?”

  “I’m afraid I’ll have to give evidence against him. I’ve already told Terrence what I know. I expect he passed it on to the local police and that it might have had something to do with them arresting Lance.”

  “Well, then, good job.” Miranda’s eyes scanned the neighborhood. “We’re close, aren’t we?”

  “Miranda, pay attention for a minute. Don’t you want to know what I told Terrence?”

  “I guess. What?”

  “Lance told me some things before Mother died. About what Duggan wanted him to do.”

  “Which was?”

  “Kill Mother with an insulin overdose, and eventually Rafe in some other way that would look like an accident.”

  Miranda’s head whirled toward him. He finally had her interest. “You’re kidding?”

  “No.”

  “When did he tell you that?”

  Rodney turned into a street where all the houses had to be well over two million pounds. “When you were letting Darryl Duggan fuck you.”

  Miranda eased off her sunglasses. “You knew?”

  “I knew.”

  She leaned back and closed her eyes. “I didn’t exactly let him, you know. I was stoned and I couldn’t stop him. I think he was trying to make a point. You know, what he said about me needing a firm hand.”

  “Apparently he was successful.”

  “Rodney, don’t be like that. He practically raped me. I have the bruises to prove it.”